


A queen in all but name

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex, Joanna had always felt, was an excellent means of clearing one's mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A queen in all but name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tywinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tywinning/gifts).



> Happy birthday to the fabulous Lauren, who needs OTP smut even more than I do :D

Sex, Joanna had always felt, was an excellent means of clearing one's mind.

Tywin's back glowed in the candlelight as he lay atop her, his cheek resting in the hollow of her throat as he caught his breath. He had overexerted himself tonight, frustrated as he was with how difficult Aerys was becoming, and the sweat between his shoulder blades gleamed gold.

"He is a fool," he said at last, rolling off her and folding his arms behind his head. "A reckless, stupid fool."

She took a moment to admire his profile - Joanna did not consider herself a sentimental person, not in the slightest, but she took immense pride in her handsome husband, strong to his bones and more capable than any man in the realm. Even naked, sweaty and flushed with his cock lying soft against his thigh, he was an intimidating creature.

The thought made her smile as she reached for the box on her nightstand, and she smiled a little wider when he turned to his own. She spared a moment to watch the muscles of his back and shoulders shift as he stretched, and then opened the box and began to sift through her correspondance. There was a letter from Ariella that she would read later (when Tywin was not lying beside her, his seed sticky on her skin), and a note from Rhaella that was doubtless naught but a vague invitation to court that Aerys had beaten her into sending in the hopes that Joanna would return for him to  _burn_ once more.

She rolled onto her front, not wishing to see that mark, and smiled just a little when Tywin's hand came to rest on the dip of her spine. 

What a very  _sentimental_ gesture. She would remind herself to tease him about it later.

Her informants at court had irritatingly little of note to report - Rhaella's pregnancy and Aerys' increasingly violent temper had everyone on edge, fearing that he might turn his anger on her and cost himself his heir. It was precisely the sort of fool thing Aerys was likely to do, after all.

"The King," Tywin said, "wishes to give more money to his precious pyromancers."

"Does he indeed," Joanna said, setting aside something that, with further investigation,  _might_ be interesting. "Mayhaps his Hand should not reach quite so far?"

Tywin huffed, as close as he would ever truly allow to a laugh, and she startled slightly at the sudden press of parchment to her back - his leg must be aching still, if he was not bothering to fetch his writing block.

"Is it the duty of a wife to act as a desk for her husband, my lord?" Joanna asked mildly. "If so, my septa never taught me as much. I am afraid I do not remember that part of my vows, either."

He hushed her, brushing the soft edge of a quill over her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes and ignored him as he wrote whatever it was he needed her support for.

"There are ways of limiting the King's access to his coffers," Tywin said, sounding smug. "And those include suggesting to his creditors that it is time for them to collect their money."

"Which means that the King must turn to his strong right hand, who just  _happens_ to be the richest man in the realm," Joanna said, delighted at the prospect of extending their control over Aerys and, through him, the whole of Westeros. "What a clever husband I have."

Tywin huffed once more, and then the parchment was gone from her back.

"It will drive him mad, if there is even the faintest scent of my perfume on it," she murmured, tucking away her letters and hiding her smile.  "Don't you think?"

She did not even have to look to know that every muscle in his body was tense, and she almost laughed when he yanked her box away.

The laughter died when his teeth scraped sharp against the side of her neck.

"Now now, my lord," she said, rolling away from him, onto her back. "I am squirrelled away here at the Rock, surely you do not fear the King's reach  _here,_ of all places?"

She did laugh, just a little, when his lip curled into a snarl and he was suddenly atop her, pushing her legs apart to press his thigh hard against her cunt and biting her neck.

The silk ribbon tying her stocking was shockingly pink, the same colour as the score marks her nails left on his back.

"Wench," he snarled, bucking against her, and she reveled in that, in her endless ability to break his perfect control. 

His hands were still controlled, of course, firm against her body but never, ever hard enough to hurt - it would destroy him to hurt her, she knew, and some small part of her delighted in that near as much as it did in his ever increasing influence over the realm-

"Oh," she sighed, arching against the tongue on her nipple. "Tell me, Tywin. Tell me  _everything."_

"Soon," he panted, nipping at the smooth swell of her lower breast, "soon, I will rule the realm in all but name."

His fingers inside her were pleasant. The promise of glory was bliss.

"You are  _my_ strong right hand," he said, and she laughed at that.  _The hand that holds the cock,_ she thought, gasping as he pressed his thumb to her nub. "A queen in all but name."

 _I have worn my crown since the day I was born,_ she thought as she came, twisting her fingers into Tywin's own crown of gold.

"I would look well on the Iron Throne," she said, slipping a hand between them and smiling when his eyes snapped shut. "Regal, I think."

"Wicked," he corrected. "And strong."

Strength appealed to Tywin, she knew, strength and intelligence - why else would he have wed her, after all? He was not a man swayed by such shallow things as beauty and courtesy, after all. He understood her interest in power, too, which so few men would have even bothered to learn of.

He looked strangely vulnerable, flat on his back underneath her with his hands warm on her hips, eyes dark and sharp.

Well, that erased all hints of vulnerability. He looked half as though he wanted to devour her, which made her smile just a little.

"And what of this throne of swords?" she asked, biting her lip as she slid down the length of his cock. Even Tywin's control, legendary though it was, could not halt the rise of his hips to meet hers. "Am I  _strong_ here? Am I wicked?"

"One, certainly," he gritted out, fingers digging into her hips and teeth clenched tight. "The other, likely yes to that, as well."

She clenched around him, and the effort it clearly took for him to keep his eyes open thrilled her. He watched her, though, watched her as hard as if she were an adversary on the battlefield.

She knew him better than any enemy ever could, though, and so she almost smiled as she brought her hands up to cup her breasts, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

He conceded, tipping his head back and groaning. She kept one hand on her breast, but the other she braced beside his head.

"And I wonder, my lord," she whispered, pressing down fully as he came, "ought a man not take the knee before his queen?"

**Author's Note:**

> I think I may have timelined a bit wrong because I don't know if Tywin and Joanna would've been married when Rhaegar was born? But hey it's mostly smut and smugness so does it really matter. Also sorry if this is OOC bb but I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
